THE THEATRE OF INDULGENCE
ghosts roamed these halls,
transparent through blood and bricks,
dutifully chained to THE THEATRE OF INDULGENCE.
each night was their production,
each room was their stage,
where the possessed and possessors dance,
but no sight of each other,
only matriarchal movement, dignity decay,
and predatorial eyes devouring the play.
a fearful boy entered,
a ticket within sweated hands.
waiting in line for…
waiting in seat for…
guided by her soft touch,
the curtain opened!
but no audience in sight,
only the silhouette partner,
“Are you scared?” she winked,
forever young with affection.
“yes,” he murmured,
set to follow the chaos routine.
but no such horror.
Only a warm embrace.
True touch without duress.
Secrets invited, banter exchanged,
an impromptu tale for our ears only.
For once in this damn theatre,
where ghosts play the invisible dance,
they made their own rules,
where she allowed a boy to see her… and she saw him right back…
Thanks for reading! 🌷 This poem was written for Escapril, an online movement to get creative and write a poem every day in April. While I’m late to the party, I thought I’d give it a try to explore my views, my personal experience and the varying emotions along the way. Giving thanks to @savbrown for some writer inspiration. #escapril #escapril2019
Stay honest and radical. Cheers, darlings. 💋